Chapter 1

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband was asleep in another woman’s car.

At 8:15 p.m., my husband’s chair was still empty.

The candles at our seventh-anniversary dinner had already burned halfway down, and the untouched food between them was beginning to go cold.

Around me, couples talked quietly over wine while I called Alaric for the fifth time.

The call went straight to voicemail.

His assistant had already told me that Alaric left the office after an afternoon meeting and had not shared his evening plans.

Two days earlier, he had held my hands and promised that nothing would keep him from tonight.

“You stood beside me through the hardest years of my business,” he had said. “Let me make our anniversary about you for once.”

I had believed him.

I had cleared my entire evening, reserved the restaurant where we first met, and worn the dark blue dress Alaric once said made it impossible for him to look away.

Tonight, he had not shown up at all.

My phone vibrated against the table.

For one hopeful second, I thought it was him.

Instead, a new social-media post appeared from Freya.

She had graduated from college six months earlier with the help of a scholarship established by my parents.

When her funding was nearly withdrawn during her final year, I had personally asked the foundation to give her another chance.

I had also recommended her for an entry-level position at Alaric’s company and helped her find a reliable used car through the foundation’s assistance program.

Now Freya was sitting inside a car with my husband.

Alaric was asleep in the passenger seat, his head tilted toward the window and a woman’s knitted cardigan draped over his shoulders.

His wedding ring caught the fading light.

Freya’s caption appeared beneath the photograph.

“My tire blew out outside the city earlier this evening. Alaric drove all the way out to help me and promised to stay until the repair shop opened. He was exhausted, so I didn’t have the heart to wake him. Thank you for always being my safe place.”

The post had been uploaded ten minutes earlier.

She knew tonight was our anniversary.

I had mentioned the reservation when she thanked me for recommending her to Alaric’s company.

Still, she had photographed my sleeping husband and presented his devotion to thousands of strangers as though it belonged to her.

I opened the photograph again and took screenshots of the image, the caption, and the time it was posted.

Then I checked Freya’s older posts.

Three weeks earlier, Alaric had canceled dinner with me because of an urgent client meeting.

That night, Freya had thanked someone for driving across the city to bring her medicine.

On my birthday, he had claimed his flight was delayed.

Freya had posted a photograph from her graduation dinner, with Alaric’s watch visible beside her plate.

I had believed every explanation because I had never thought to compare the dates.

Now I saved those posts too.

The waiter approached and asked whether I wanted to keep waiting.

“No,” I said. “Please bring me the check.”

I paid for our untouched anniversary dinner, walked outside, and called Victoria.

She had been my closest friend since college and now practiced family law.

“Sienna?” she answered. “Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating tonight?”

I looked at Freya’s photograph one last time.

“I need a divorce consultation.”